


If You Want Something Visual That's Not Too Abysmal

by sweetNsimple



Series: Spideypool Secret Santa Assignment 2013 [2]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Long Fic Exchange, M/M, Merry Christmas, No super powers, SpideyPool Secret Santa Assignment, Wadesque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter flopped down on the bed, inserted his face into his pillow, and stopped breathing in what was obviously an attempt to asphyxiate himself via cushiony comforts.  When that inevitably failed, he screeched something that could have been “FLY BY STARBUCKS” or, just as likely, “MY LIFE SUCKS”, which was just too bad.</p><p>“I thought life was looking up for you,” Matt said, braille tickling beneath his fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Want Something Visual That's Not Too Abysmal

Peter flopped down on the bed, inserted his face into his pillow, and stopped breathing in what was obviously an attempt to asphyxiate himself via cushiony comforts. When that inevitably failed, he screeched something that could have been “FLY BY STARBUCKS” or, just as likely, “MY LIFE SUCKS”, which was just too bad.

“I thought life was looking up for you,” Matt said, braille tickling beneath his fingers.

Peter muffled something else and shifted around.

“You realize I can't actually see you flipping me off.”

“And, yet,” Peter said, coming up for obviously unwanted air, “You know I'm doing it anyway.”

Matt patted his head. “Want to talk about it?”

“Yeah.” He sighed and combed a hand through his hair. “No.”

“Which is it?”

“I do, but I don't. You know what I mean?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

“I met one of my student's parents today,” Peter said, purposely vague. “The parent... wants to 'woo' me. No joke, woo me.” He folded his arms underneath the pillow and stared at the headboard. “Said... something along the lines of me being good parent material.”

Matt put aside his book and moved across the bed, settling cozily up against Peter's side, embracing him with all limbs and a chaste kiss to his temple. “You would make a really good father, Peter.”

“Yeah...” There was a moment of silence, then he shook his head clear of whatever he was thinking. “But I work with teenagers almost every day. It's not exactly something I want to bring home with me.”

“Midtown High could gain incredibly from having your child walk through their doors.”

“Just my child?”

“Well, I was thinking surrogate.”

“I was thinking adoption.”

“I'd rather have a child with your genes.”

“How about we flip for it?”

“You would cheat.”

Peter snorted. “I probably would.”

“Besides, I thought it wasn't exactly something you wanted to bring home.”

“Not right now, but, you know, someday... Sounds like a good idea.” Peter added teasingly, “Unless they want to be just like you. In which case, I'm disowning them. One lawyer under our roof is bad enough.”

“Peter, think about what you're about to say, and then ask yourself, is it worth sleeping on the couch?”

There was a long moment's debate. “I don't know,” Peter finally said. “Do you know the difference between a lawyer and a prostitute?”

“I do, as a matter of fact. Sad truth is, though, you're not even getting screwed by this lawyer while alive.”

“To the couch?”

“I think I'll forgive you this once.”

“Just don't sue me in the morning.”

Matt hummed pleasantly. “On second thought, this bed isn't big enough for the two of us.” So he shoved Peter off the side, grinning when his lover squawked indignantly.

“But, baby, I love you!”

“You can't butter me up, Peter. Remember, I'm a lawyer.”

~::~

Eventually, Peter admitted his admirer's name – Wade Wilson – and some of the sillier, stranger things that happened when the man was around.

None of which was as strange as the day, two weeks after Peter first brought up his admirer, when Peter fell into his lap, settled back and groaned, long and pitifully.

“Your admirer?” Matt asked.

Peter was quiet for a long moment. “He told me some things today. Like that he had had skin cancer. He's in remission now, but, it left behind a lot of scars. Lesions and dark spots and rashes... His veins look black. He says that some of it is because of the medication that hasn't washed out of his system yet.”

Matt waited for Peter to keep talking.

“He's crazy.” Peter moved his head to Matt's shoulder. “And weird. Like, more than just me-weird, he's a weird all his own. He came to my classroom the other day in a lolita maid dress.”

“You told me about that,” Matt said.

“Yeah, well, still. A maid dress, Matt. I started to feel bad for his daughter because, damn, this guy has issues. I kept asking myself, how is this guy even allowed to have kids? He talks to himself, Matt. Not just, talks to himself and answers himself, but talks to himself and then listens to someone who's not there answer him back. And – and, Matt. He's bald, alright? He's bald, he's crude, he's wrong in the head, and he stinks like tacos.”

“Alright.”

“... And I might have agreed to go with him on a not-date... date... On Saturday.”

“... Peter.”

“I told him that I'm already seeing someone and he said to just bring you along,” Peter rushed to add.

“Peter, why?”

“Because he gets my pop culture references, you uncultured swine!”

“Peter, that is no reason to cheat on me.”

“It's not cheating... It's more like a three-way get-together with two of us being in a relationship plus one.” Peter plucked off his sunglasses and pressed kittenish, distracting kisses over his face. “He's absolutely infuriating. A total knave! I just want to choke him to death most days.”

“And yet, we're apparently going on a date with him.”

“I'll cancel if you want me to. I mean, I shouldn't have agreed in the first place. I have you, for one. I don't like him like that, for another. His daughter is my student, so it would be a really bad idea.”

Matt sensed that one of those was a lie, but didn't call Peter out on it.

Personally, he had absolutely no desire to meet Wade Wilson, admirer extraordinaire. But Peter had dropped his hands to play over his chest, just on the right side of rough, and Matt knew that the window of opportunity for putting up a fight had passed.

He grabbed his lover by his midriff and wrestled him into the cushions of the couch.

“Draw straws to see who tops?” Peter asked.

Matt grinned. “I'm already on top.”

Peter huffed. “Asshole.”

“Well, that was my next destination. Thank you for stating the obvious.”

~::~

Peter got a call from Aunt May at the last possible minute. Matt didn't even ask what about before he sent Peter off, telling him that he would hold their table and play nice with Wade once he arrived. There was never any reason to ask – when Aunt May called, Peter Parker would answer. Even during class, in the middle of sex, and, on one memorable occasion, during a bank robbery.

Peter did assure him that he would be back in twenty minutes tops, though, which was good.

Five minutes after he left, Matt caught a strong aroma of taco spices and anesthetics.

“Heeeyyy! Matt Murdock, right?” There was a blast of air as the man standing over him moved suddenly. “Wade Wilson! Mr. Parker – Petey – has told me about you. A little bit. Okay, not a lot at all, but he mentioned your name and said that you two are a thing. Then I pickpocketed his wallet and there was a picture of you there!” And then he added, low and malicious, “Stop staring at me.”

Matt felt torn between grimacing and smiling. “Staring is really all I do. It comes with being blind, I can't not stare.”

“... Oh. Gimme a moment.”

He listened to Wade walk away. The bell over the door chimed and the smell of spices and anesthetics walked out with the other man.

Then walked right back in when the bell chimed again.

Matt did smile this time when Wade said, “Heeeeyyyyyy! Matt Murdock, right?” Wade grabbed Matt's right hand and put it in his own before proceeding to shake it. “Wade Wilson! Petey has told me about you. A little not at all! It's great meeting you for the first time.”

“Hello, Mr. Wilson.”

“Please, call me Wanda.”

It was enough for Matt to wonder if Wade had shown up in a dress. “Wade,” he bargained.

“Mr. Tibbs,” Wade countered.

Which effectively confused Matt. “I'll stick to Wade.”

“Oh, come on. Have you ever seen In the Heat of the Night? Detective Virgil Tibbs, 1967, 'They call me Mr. Tibbs!'”

“I watched Lion King once a long time ago. There was a Mr. Pig.”

“Uncultured swine!” Wade cried. Then paused. “Wait, shit, I'm supposed to be making a good impression on him. No, calling someone an uncultured swine is not a good impression. Well, it matters to me.”

Wade cleared his throat. Matt vaguely wondered if anyone at the surrounding tables was watching them. “Fuck. Gimme a moment.”

~::~

Twenty-five minutes and three restarts later, Matt could say that understanding Wade was possible. For someone else who had a full understanding of psychology, cancer treatment, pop culture references, Marvel comics, child-rearing, and crippling inferiority complexes.

For Matt, it was like trying to follow a convoluted path, slick with grease and prickly to senses.

And then Peter came through the door, a familiar mixture of high school chemical labs, sandalwood bodywash, and dust. “Matt, Wade, I'm so sorry. Aunt May was having trouble with – would anyone like to tell me what the Hell that is?”

Matt couldn't see it himself, but he had helped build it, under Wade's guide, and felt unusually offended by Peter's horror. “It's a pancake castle.”

“It's our summer home!” Wade seconded. “It overlooks the Maple Syrup Ocean from a country called Maison de Gaufres, peacefully neighboring Canada.”

Matt was, against his better judgment, impressed. “You know French?”

“I know how to French kiss. Lay it on me, you sexy, deviant lawyer!”

“Oh, God,” Peter said. “What have I done?”

“Petey!” Wade's chair scraped the floor and Matt got the impression that he threw himself at Peter if his lover's stumble and growl was any indication. “Don't be jealous, please? But Matt's a manly man! A manly, manly, grunt, bear-punching man! Share with me, Petey, pwetty pwease?”

“How are you even considered an adult?” Peter asked shrilly.

“But, but, but, daddddyyyyy!”

“Sit back down, Wilson,” Peter growled.

Matt stole a pancake from the pancake castle and listened contently to Peter and Wade snark at each other. There were, as a matter of fact, quite a few pop culture references. And then Wade got offtrack and started ranting about why the sky couldn't be purple. Then he talked about a purple man. Which made him apologize to Matt for some reason. Then he apologized for apologizing.

“You don't know it, but you know a Purple Man and, boy, does that guy hate your fuckin' guts.”

“I've never met a purple man,” Matt said.

“Not here, you haven't.”

Before Matt could question that, Wade was off on the difference between African and European Swallow's air-speed velocity.

For some reason, that made Peter laugh. “I'm being repressed!”

“Bloody peasant!” Wade spat back.

~::~

It wasn't the last 'date' they went on with Wade. Wade was unsettled, scarred, childish, just like Peter had said. Peter and Matt both suffered constantly from wanting to throttle the cheeky bastard, but then Wade would say something else, or stop saying anything at all, and the rage would ebb away.

On their last 'date', Wade had even brought his daughter, Eleanor, along.

It was an eye-opening experience. Eleanor was mature and quiet, strongly intelligent and very, very protective of her father.

Peter told him that she looked nothing like Wade. He was even beginning to suspect that she wasn't his biological daughter at all. Matt had brought it up with Wade one night, saying that they could do a paternity test. From what he understood, Eleanor's mother had given up custody of her five years prior without asking for, or giving anything.

The reaction had been... volatile. Possessive and terrified, Wade saying that it wasn't important, that he didn't care, that he didn't want it.

“She's my daughter, alright? Don't matter whose swimmers got up inside Carmalita, Eleanor's mine.”

From there, it was a matter of minimal brain power to realize that Wade was absolutely, completely, and heartrendingly scared of one thing – being alone.

Matt and Peter dropped by Wade's on occasion not too long after. Wade kept a messy apartment in the good part of town, close enough to school that Eleanor could walk, though he still made her carry pepper spray and a taser (Peter swore not to tell the principle about either object, which could and would get Eleanor suspended if anyone did tattle).

Matt was convinced that the only thing that stopped pizza boxes, fast food cartons, and dirty laundry from piling up from floor to ceiling was Eleanor. Nonetheless, the stench of grease and Thai was powerful in the air, overcoming the unmistakable coverup of Febreeze, and he kept kicking underwear out of his path with his cane.

Wade wasn't apologetic in the least. “I clean! I spring clean! I clean once in the spring.” He'd even sounded proud of himself. “That's what spring cleaning is for.”

“You're disgusting,” Peter had said.

“Disgustingly filthy in bed, yeah.”

“We'll have to test that theory before it's proven,” Matt said, jokingly.

He realized in the silence that followed that it might have been taken at least semi-seriously.

“... Well, I have a kid, so that means it was proven at some point, eh?” Wade said at last.

~::~

Peter didn't talk much the rest of the visit.

When they got home later that night, far later than they had thought they would, Peter flopped face-down into bed and groaned pitifully.

Matt got a sense of deja vu.

“What do you think Wade would be like in bed?”

“Is that really an appropriate question to ask your boyfriend?”

“You brought it up first.”

Matt sighed. “I think he would be submissive and needy.”

“You've put some thought into this.”

“I've been observing.”

“Observing pretty hard there.”

Matt rolled over on top of Peter. “Hardcore,” he agreed.

“You know, Thanksgiving is coming up.”

He thought he knew where this was going. “And...”

“Aunt May is always happy to have more people over for the holidays.”

“And...”

“She would adore Eleanor.”

“And...”

“Matt. Don't be a life-sucking lawyer, be supportive.”

“That's asking a lot. I'm a pretty damn good lawyer, remember?” But he wrapped his arms around Peter anyway and settled in for the night, knowing that they were going to ask Wade and Eleanor over anyway.

~::~

The hints at having a threesome became more plentiful, and far dirtier over time.

“Peter and I are going to bed, Wade.”

“Take me with you!”

Or,

“Holy crap, that's big.”

“You haven't even seen big yet, baby boy.”

And,

“God, you can stick that fist right between my corn holders.”

No one really thought to stop it. Eleanor herself learned that she was just as welcomed at their home than at her own. Aunt May's place was a close third. Wade was with them more than he was by himself, which was good.

A lonely Wade was a chatty Wade was an irritating Wade was a Wade worth killing and going to prison for.

It was comfortable, though. Nine months in, it was cozier than a friendship, but not as intimate as a sexual relationship.

Matt wasn't sure if they would take that step.

Till one day in late May.

~::~

Matt and Wade were playing a game of chess, Wade shamelessly cheating and Matt not even bothering to call him out on it. Wade was, in an unconventional way, quite intelligent. Strategically, however, he was going to lose, no matter how he manipulated the game.

He heard heavy footsteps coming to the door and lifted his head. It sounded like Peter – exhausted, walking unevenly, weight rocking painfully.

And then Peter's body fell against the door and slid to crumble on the front step. Wade and Matt were out of their seats instantly.

Swinging open the door, Matt heard Wade curse darkly.

“So,” Peter wheezed. “I might've been mugged on my way home... Surprise!”

~::~

Matt wanted to take care of Peter, but Wade was the one with eyes. He sat with Peter pressed against his side, arms around his waist, while Wade dabbed at him and covered him in band-aids.

“Stop being so doom and gloom,” Peter murmured, sounding tired. “You should really see the other guys. I mean, I really kicked their asses. Note that I came home with my wallet and valuables? I'm that good.” Then he flinched and hissed.

“Stay still, baby boy,” Wade said. “We're almost done. You're doing so good.”

“God, that sounded wrong, Wade.”

“Shut up, we're having a moment here.” Matt felt Wade nudge Peter, which prompted Peter to laugh, despite how pained it sounded.

Matt had his own moment. A moment of misplaced clarity.

He could live with this.

Matt waited till they were done before getting to his feet. “I need to go to the office for a few hours, Peter.”

Wade growled, “What?” as if he was about to attack Matt for leaving Peter at the worst possible moment.

“Don't worry.” He smiled. “You'll stay here with him.”

Peter made a curious sound. “Matt?”

“I'll be back later and we can fight out a bed plan,” he said. “Just get some rest, Peter.”

“... Oh.” Wade sounded humbled. “Okay. Yeah. That's... Petey?”

Peter wrapped his hand around Matt's and drew him down into a kiss. “We'll see you when you get back, then.”

“Louis,” Wade breathed, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

~::~

“Stop me if you've heard this one,” Wade began, talking quietly because Eleanor was sleeping in the next bedroom and Wade was nothing if not obsessed with his daughter's welfare. “God decided to take the Devil to court to settle their differences –”

“And Satan laughed and asked God where he would get a lawyer, yeah, I've heard it,” Matt said.

“He's heard all of them,” Peter muttered from his other side.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Wade paused. “You ain't heard nothin' yet!”

Matt palmed Wade's full buttocks with a rough hand and listened to Wade stutter and shake into blubbering submission.

“Oh, thank God,” Peter said. “I've been trying to sleep for the past half hour.”

“It's alright,” Matt said, smiling. He kissed Peter's brow, ignoring Wade's desperately growing pawing. “I've got him under control.”

“Lies!” Wade hissed. “Lies and propaganda!” Then he shivered. “But I'll let you pretend for now.”

“Good boy,” Peter murmured. “Be quiet. I have to wake up with Eleanor.”

There was a long pause, the sort that came after Wade fell asleep and before he started talking in his sleep.

Matt played his hand over Wade's scars and bumps. “Good night, Wade.”

“'Night, DD.”

“Who?”

Wade just smiled against his collarbone.

**Author's Note:**

> "Let me show you around/ Maybe play you a sound/ you look like you're both pretty groovy./ If you want something visual/ that's not too abysmal/ we can take in an old Steve Reeves movie."  
> ~"Sweet Transvestite", sang by Dr. Frank-N-Furter, movie "Rocky Horror Picture Show"
> 
> spideypool secret santa assignment!  
> FOR LONG FIC  
> Tumblr URL: wadesque  
> Trigger warnings: I have no triggers  
> Kinks you do not want: I’m open to all kinks  
> Additional warnings (if applicable): n/a  
> Preferences (optional)*: I’m a big fan of Team Red! The more Matt the merrier :)
> 
> I hope I did right by you, Wadesque! Merry Christmas. And, sorry if I'm doing this wrong. I don't think I ever properly learned how to use Tumblr beyond looking at pretty pictures and making sure I never lost them.


End file.
